Format: Picture book
Author and illustrator: Carson Ellis
Publisher: Candlewick Press (published February 2015)
Mary Ann Hoberman’s A House is a House for Me is a longstanding favourite around these parts, so I was intrigued when I stumbled across Carson Ellis’s similarly themed picture book Home at the library last week. Home is a house in the country. / Or home is an apartment. The book begins simply but immediately takes off to homes that are boats, palaces, underground lairs, or shoes. French people live in French homes. / Atlantians make their homes underwater. The book is a jaunt through a universe rich with possibilities from moon creatures’ homes to castles for Norse gods to fairytale teacup dwellings. Each page teems with imaginative possibilities for readers young and old: Whose home is this? asks a page depicting a precarious cliffside stone cottage.
Who in the world lives here?
Ellis’s gouache illustratrations stand out among picture books for their muted, simple colour palette — oranges and yellows are all but nonexistent while sepias and blue-greys abound — and for a feeling of what I can only describe as gravity; her characters go about their daily lives, not necessarily smiling in her renderings of their homes and lives. Frankly, after reading several hundred books with more playful illustrations this past winter, I was delighted for this visual break. The illustrations give Home a feeling of solidity, of seriousness, but since the book is jaunting from moon homes to tall ships there is still a strong sense of humour and cheekiness (see if you can find the boy with the bare bum on the page with the little old lady who lives in a shoe).
A House is a House for Me‘s main failing is its oversimplifications to the point of near-racism; critics have argued that Home falls down in the same way, and I would tend to agree with them. The Some homes are wigwams page is a pretty ludicrous stereotype of how native North Americans live, and the bare-chested man with the scimitar in a vaguely Eastern palace is likewise a tired trope. But, as always, I like to use things like that as a teachable moment and remind Little E: “This is one person’s imagination about how people live.”
I prefer to think of Home as a beautiful tour of what unites us: our homes, comforting and familiar, common threads that draw us together across space and time and even imagination.